The 'Pirate' and His Sea
by Nefarious Matchbox
Summary: A Nick Fury/Percy Jackson pairing story. Slash! (obviously) May or may not be a one-shot, favorite, follow and review for more chapters! "Every pirate must have his sea, so why not Nick Fury? His is just a little, well, special..." Rated T, for maybe violence, swearing, innuendos (not too bad though) May feature the rest of the Avengers! (and others from PJO)
1. Chapter 1

**AN - So, I've always been a big fan of Avenger crossovers, and I haven't seen a lot of Nick Fury slash crossover relationship thingies. I was... acutally I can't remember what I was doing to come up with idea, but I sat down in front of the computer with this in my head. There's a few Percy Jackson/Avenger crossovers, and I wondered what Percy/Nick would be like. I tried my hand at it, and this is what happened. Hope you like it!**

**Quick note: Nick Fury is forty five-ish and Percy is thirty two or something. Because of Percy's contact with gods and he is half-god anyway, he'll look younger, and I've always thought Nick looks pretty young too.**

**Disclaimer - Don't own anything.**

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Fury was tired. He'd a long day, even by his crazy standards. A total of three cars had blown up, two helicopters had to be pulled from the fleet for repairs that he couldn't remember, a stupid rookie had gotten himself captured in Australia and god knows how much paper work _that_ takes, the Avengers had somehow demolished half a suburb (Stark had suspiciously muttered something about Santa's with rocket launching euphoniums and tequila) and _his car had stalled on the way home_.

Now, he just wanted to kick back and relax, maybe with some whiskey or beer and a movie or a book. A shower and his couch called for him, along with a good night's sleep. Yes, a good night's sleep sounded great, he thought as he climbed up the stairs to his flat. As he messed with the keys for the door, he inhaled the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip banana muffins, and decided to put off that shower for a few minutes. He knew that the muffins tasted just as divine as they smelled, and their enticing calls were just as loud as that of the couch.

Stepping inside, Nick kicked off his shoes and hung his trench coat on the antique coat rack standing by the door. His shoulder holster went into the small trunk hidden in the wall underneath the hall table, but he kept the gun at his hip to put it in it's place in his bedside table. The smell of muffins intensified as he made his way to the kitchen, and the sound of humming accompanied it. Recognizing it as the song 'It's Great to be King' from the Lion King, he leaned in the doorway of the kitchen and watched the cheerful figure who was idling across the tiles.

"You look like you're in a good mood," he said. His lips twitched ever so slightly, coming out of their usual frown that always present at work except for a few choice moments, as he watched the black haired man in front of him jerk at his words. He knew he hadn't really scared him - the man was far too good for that - but he had the habit of subconsciously tuning everything that wasn't a threat out while in the kitchen.

"You look like you're in a pretty crappy one yourself," the man replied sarcastically as he turned to face Nick, his breath-taking green eyes meeting the director's. He vaguely gestured with the glass of what Nick guessed was rum and coke towards the tray of cooling - _and blue _- muffins on the counter. "Want one?"

Nick rolled his eyes and slid past his friend - no, he was more than that - and grabbed a muffin. Biting into the still warm pastry, he hummed appreciatively as the gooey chocolate and soft spices of cinnamon and banana dough filled mouth. "Why'd you decide to make these?" He asked the man across from him.

He shrugged. "Just felt like it. So, Nickie, just how much shit happened today?" Nick sighed at the nickname but put down his muffin and leaned forward to put his arms around the green-eyed man. Burying his nose into the man's long tanned neck, he inhaled slowly, and replied, "Too much, Percy."

His long-time friend and lover, Perseus ("Call me Percy, dammit!") Jackson, rolled his eyes and put his free arm over Nick's shoulder, the other still harboring his precious rum and coke. "Yeah, yeah. Let me guess, the lovely Tony Stark was involved somewhere in that shit?" Nick's tired groan was the only answer he needed, and with an exasperated sigh Percy led Nick out of the kitchen and into the living room and sat him down on the couch. Feeling the comfortable leather beneath him, Nick reluctantly let go of Percy and flopped down in a show of unashamed pleasure that he only had alone with Percy. He could hear Percy's footsteps as they left the living room, went into the kitchen, and returned a minute later, only to press a cold beer bottle into his hand and shove his half-finished muffin into his mouth.

Nick bit down on the muffin and popped open the beer bottle with the ever present bottle opener on the coffee table, watching Percy bend over and fiddle with the DVD player, no doubt putting in some random movie. Nick took a moment to enjoy the view Percy's position was giving him - those tight grey jeans hugged just right and left nothing to his imagination (not that he hadn't seen it before, hah) - then took a deep pull from the bottle. God, his boyfriend was the best; a beer, his delicious blue chocolate chip muffins, a movie, and a comfortable couch after a horrible day. What more could he ask for?

Well, he amended, for Stark to stop his bitching and the Avengers to stop blowing stuff up and for people to stop attacking America (was the world too much to ask? Probably.) and for rookies not to be so stupid, and the list went on and on and _on_... But as his boyfriend, his gorgeous and badass and unbearably awesome boyfriend, settled down on the couch with him, leaning between his legs with his back on Nick's chest and his unruly black hair under his chin, he decided he was pretty happy with this too.

They lay there in content silence for a few minutes, watching the opening to some movie he'd seen a hundred times but Percy was still obsessed about (cough 300 cough) because of it's attempt at ancient mythology and history - until Percy began squirming. Biting back a sigh, Nick let him sit up. Staying still wasn't easy for an ADHD, world-saving demigod hero with dyslexia, not that he particularly minded. All those hero aspects made for a nice match with the director of SHIELD.

"What did you do today, other than bake?" Nick asked after another sip from his beer, watching the characters run about madly on screen distractedly. His boyfriend shrugged and stretched like a cat, his shirt riding up a bit to expose a slice of muscled, tan stomach. Nick watched it shamelessly as his lover spoke, "Mmm, went monster hunting down in L.A. for a bit with Nico, then swung by San Francisco for a few hours. I heard something about the Hunters stopping there through the grapevine, but it was just a dead end." Percy pouted (though he'd never admit it) at the mention of not meeting the elusive Hunters, none of which Nick had been told much about. "So what did you do to stay there for a few hours?" Nick put his half-empty beer down on the coffee table, taking his hip gun holster off as well, as Percy cracked his neck to get rid of some kink. A smooth expanse of skin flashed teasingly at him from the joint of his neck and shoulder, and Nick swallowed. Percy's answer drifted over his head as he watched his stunning boyfriend shrug. "Played paintball with the party ponies. It was interesting, to say the least."

"I bet it was," Nick murmured, sitting up and shuffling towards Percy, who looked at him for a moment then smirked. He reached out and grabbed the hand Nick offered and let him pull him up from the bed. His beer forgotten and the movie somehow put on mute, Nick decided that that shower could wait a while.

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**AN - That actually went a little farther than I expected. Oops. Oh well, it should fit in T rated, so whatever. If enough people like this I'll make it a mini-series, either of one-shots (connected or not) or it has a mini-plot, which might be kind of hard but I'll try.**


	2. Chapter 2 - How Fury Met Him

**AN - As a reward to all those awesome people who reviewed, followed and favorited, here is the second part that you were waiting for (and that I had fun writing!) Alright, I've had some questions, so I'll answer those now. I've decided that: ****Percy is 33, and Fury is 45!**** Also, how this series is going to work is that I'll have a group of connected one-shots with maybe a bit of plot. **

**I want to make a scene where all the Avengers meet Percy and find out he's Fury's boyfriend (obviously), and I have a bit of a plan. Some characters will have met Percy before said meeting (maybe Clint, cause he's a SHIELD agent, as an example) and what I'm going to do is have a chapter for those things. This chapter is: HOW FURY MET HIM. So, how Fury met Percy. Let's say as an example, Thor meets him somehow before, and it'll be HOW THOR MET HIM etc. It's up to you, the readers, to decide if you want every character to have a 'how they met him' chapter, or if they should just meet him for the first time when the Avengers assemble/find out about Fury's boyfriend. I can work with either option, so go ahead and let me know.**

**NICK FURY AND PERCY JACKSON WILL HAVE EITHER A F_IVE, SIX OR SEVEN YEAR_ RELATIONSHIP WHEN THEY MEET THE AVENGERS (or they meet him) _DECIDE WHICH ONE_. THE AGES WILL STAY THE SAME IN THE END, IT JUST CHANGES HOW OLD THEY WERE WHEN THEY MET.**

**Anyway, this was fun to write. Hope you enjoy it. :D**

**Warning: SLASH (MxM) **

**Disclaimer: Don't own (unfortunately) :P**

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HOW FURY MET HIM

The day Nick Fury met Perseus Jackson was an odd one. The director of SHIELD had decided to tag along on the recruitment of the man Jon Folosky. They found themselves approaching him in a bar Folosky visited on occasion, the Golden Fleece. He had never been to it himself, because of its remote location in the easy-going, slightly removed corner district of New York. Folosky would be an excellent addition to SHIELD if they could convince (or threaten) him to join, with his ex-marine status and experience in the field.

When they entered the Golden Fleece(he wasn't sure if that was a sissy name or not) Folosky was seated at a table in the corner, next to the bar. He was blonde haired and blue eyed with a sturdy build, and was nursing a tall glass of what he supposed was beer. He and Coulson – who he had personally chosen to accompany him – walked over silently and took a seat across from him.

Folosky glanced up, considered them, then looked back at his glass. Raising it, he paused before taking a sip and said softly, "Be on your way, gentlemen. I'm not interested in whatever the government has to offer."

Coulson glanced around them as he relaxed into the chair with practiced ease, the picture of an easy going friend visiting another. "Are you sure? We might have a proposal that will peak your curiosity." Neither Fury nor Coulson bothered to deny the fact that they were from the government; Folosky would recognize the lie.

Folosky slammed his glass down abruptly and glared at them, blue eyes churning furiously. "I'm not interested," he said flatly, and stood from the table in a rush. Something in his gaze made Fury sigh – he knew that look. Folosky was done with the war and combat because it had broken him long ago, and he had no urge to fix it. It was rare for SHIELD to be able to recruit those kinds of people, and he knew that Folosky wouldn't give. Normally he would not give up so easily, but Folosky wasn't _particularly _necessary, and he didn't need broken people.

"Don't bother trying with him again," a voice said, and caused both SHIELD director and agent to turn to the bar. A young man with black hair and eyes the color of a churning green sea leveled an easy-going smile at them, cleaning out a glass absentmindedly. He was obviously the bartender of the place, and couldn't be more than 27, but Fury was a little more concerned about how he had not heard the man come around the bar. He hadn't been there when they walked in, and he would notice any person shuffling about seven feet away.

"Folosky's done with all things government and combat related," the unnamed man continued, walking around the bar with two bottles in hand and approaching their table. Coulson and Fury stiffened a bit, wary of both his words and any threatening movement, but the man just rolled his eyes and set the bottles down on the table. Taking Folosky's empty glass he strolled back to the bar and gave them an easy grin. "Don't worry, I won't say anything. There's enough odd things around here that everyone knows not to talk. I mean, our resident Spider-man beat down mutant lizards and all that a while ago, a little chat between feds in my bar is _nothing_."

Nick and Fury didn't trust easily, but something about the man made them blinked and for some reason not shoot him down. He disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving the two slightly miffed agents with two bottles of excellent scotch.

* * *

It took Fury three days and the Avengers demolishing a three-story laboratory to open the bottle of scotch he'd received from the strange bartender. It was a strange bottle - the sleeve was grey with an owl with eerie yellow eyes on it. The curling letters above spelled out: Ambrosia Brewery, and below was what he guessed was the batch of alcohol, The Wise Man's words mean Nothing. It was odd, but after cracking it open and going through his paranoid ritual of testing it for every poison and drug known to man, he took a hesitant sip. It was fantastic. It burned its way down his throat and brought a taste to the tissue of his mouth that he'd never felt before - it felt ancient and strong, like something a war general would drink. But it had a hint of something, of some intrigue that made him feel curious and thirsting for more, and it gave the scotch a quality of refined wisdom, if that was possible.

Fury drank a quarter of the bottle that night, and tucked it away into his cabinet for some other day. Not that he'd ever admit it, but the taste lingered in his mouth for hours after, and he believed - however illogically - that the scotch had something to do with its mystical namesake, ambrosia, the food of the gods.

* * *

It took Fury a week and a half and an explosion in the chemistry wing to send him off to the same bar as before, the Golden Fleece. He slipped past the front door and hoped, for some reason, that the same bartender wouldn't be on duty.  
He was. Oh well. Maybe he'd learn his name. Striding forward purposefully and ignoring the eyebrow the bartender raised his way, he said, "Something strong. Now."  
The bartender wasn't offended by his rudeness and just rolled his eyes. He went to the beverage cabinet and reached for a bottle set off to the side with a dozen others of the same make. He considered it, then shrugged and went back over to Fury. Eyeing the bottle that was put down as the bartender went to get a glass, he saw it was different than the bottle he had at home. This one's sleeve was a golden yellow, and had a golden-manned horse pulling a chariot decorated in gold suns. The same brand was there - the Ambrosia Brewery - but there was a different label to go with the image; Festivities of the Sun. It was yet again an odd label, but if the last bottle was good, and he had asked for something even stronger, then this one should not disappoint.

When the bartender poured him a glass, he silently marveled at the colour - it looked like someone had taken the sun and put it through a liquefier, with small bubbles lazily rising through the alcohol. He grabbed the glass and swallowed half of it, a second too fast for the bartender to say whatever he was going to. Immediately his throat constricted as his mouth exploded and his gorge clenched. It was liquid fire roaring through his veins, and damn did it feel good after a crazy day.

"Ah," the bartender said ruefully as he watched him hold in a faint cough, "I was going to warn you about that. The Festivities has that affect for the first few swallows."

"Only the first few?" Fury managed to regain his metaphorical feet and raised his single eyebrow sarcastically.

The bartender gave him a sheepish grin. It made his green eyes sparkle, Fury mused, like dew on fresh coastal grass - wait, what? The man continued on without noticing Fury's sudden mental yelp. "Well, most people can only handle three glasses before passing out, and a lot are completely buzzed after one and a bit. " His grin turned a bit mischievous. "Surprisingly it doesn't have too bad of a hangover - for some people. For others they wake up and it's hell's pub party in their head. It's gotten a lot of couples together too." His face turned thoughtful. "One night stands lasting longer and all that."

Hmm. One night stands, that was a thought he wouldn't mind, not with that man standing across from him. But was a one night stand too short?... Did he really just think that? _Shoot me now,_ he thought, mortified. Nick Fury hadn't been unsure of his sexuality since he was seventeen, where several flings quickly confirmed the fact that yes, he was gay. He had accepted it, and could enjoy a fine view as well as the next person, but it had never been like this. Well, maybe it had, but he hadn't really felt the burning desire _to wrap this man up in his arms, drag him home, offer a beer and dinner and keep him_. Like he did right now, with the man that he had only just met.

Damn. Maybe the alcohol really was getting to him.

But despite his doubts, he continued to return to the bar, and it became his every Tuesday evening haunt.

It was on his fourth visit that he even bothered to ask the man's name. It was an interesting interaction.

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"So," Fury said while nursing his second bottle of Festivities (he was rather fond of the brew), "what's your name? I can't just call you the bartender can I?"

The black-haired man shot him an indulgent smile that said he knew exactly what he was going at but answered anyway. "Percy Jackson."

"Nick," Fury responded. He was interested in this strange bartender named Percy Jackson, but not enough that he would tell him his last name. "Well, I would buy you a drink, Percy, but..." He waved a hand to the other man's position behind the bar.

Percy - he liked that name - raised an eyebrow and settled down on a stool across the bar, a bottle in hand. "Are you asking me out, Nick?"  
"Of course," he said with a straight face, brown eye staring into swirling green eyes.

Percy smirked. "I close early tomorrow, at five. You can pick me up here."

And the rest was history.

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**AN - So if anyone has questions, leave them in a review or PM me. I always try to answer them as quickly and as well as possible! Sorry if Nick was OOC there - it's annoying to get him into the 'let's have a first date' mood and mindset. It's so different than the movie or anything XD Hope you liked the bar (hopefully you got the reference to it's name) and all the beers. Obviously they're of Percy's own creation, but yeah. **

**I hope it satisfied. Let me know of your opinions! Thanks for all the support**

**Matches :D**


	3. Chapter 3- How Clint Met Him & Found Out

**AN - Hello everyone, I return and I bear another chapter! My exams are almost done (one more on Tuesday) so soon I should be able to post a lot more, hopefully. This one is how Clint met Percy and found out about Fury and Percy's relationship. It was easier to put these two together, so bonus time ;D I liked this chapter, and it was lots of fun!**

**-Note: The Golden Fleece is found at 174 Bourbon Avenue (it's a made up road, by Hudson Street.) I had to go on Google maps to figure out where to put the bar, and even then I probably failed. I live in Canada (whoo, Canada!) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or Percy Jackson and the Olympians. A pity. **

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HOW CLINT MET HIM & HOW CLINT FOUND OUT

Clint wasn't big on rumours. He generally found them annoying (but some were entertaining) and tended to ignore them. But when he heard the gossip that was running wild on the helicarrier, he didn't know if he should laugh or stare.  
Apparently Nick Fury was seeing someone. Which was both a ridiculous and frightening idea.  
Ridiculous, because who would Nick Fury pair up with? He was sarcastic, critiquing, ruthless, pitiless and probably compassion-less. But it was for those same reasons it was frightening - what kind of person could put up with him?  
Normally he'd go to Natasha and discuss the rationality of said rumour, but the female spy was away in Indonesia on some mission and he was left to stew alone.  
At the moment he was crouched on the balcony railing of an abandoned building, peering rather moodily through a pair of binoculars at the man he'd been told to watch. Apparently he was the brother of some mafia-don S.H.I.E.L.D was trying to make friends with, and some other rivals gangs were underhanded enough to attack family not involved in the underworld. So, as a sign of good will, S.H.I.E.L.D put a shadow on him for protection. Clint got that, he totally understood. But why did it have to be_ him?_

Grumbling under his breath, he watched as his target – no, not target, object of _babysitting_ – messed with his phone as he walked, not paying attention to the shady alley's he was walking by or any of his surroundings really. Clint probably wouldn't have either, except for the fact that he'd been chewed out by Fury often enough about getting lazy on observation jobs, and that was the only reason he saw the dark form that shot out of the alley, snatched up the man and dragged him into the shadows, all in a split second.

If Clint hadn't been watching, he would have the man has just disappeared.

And of course seeing your mission objective _vanish_ from the street and into a potentially – probably - hostile area banished all laziness Clint could have had and he leapt down the streets below, making a bee-line for the alley while contacting Fury.

"What is it, Barton?" It sounded like Fury was angry about being interrupted – he probably was in a meeting again – and was in no mood for jokes.

"Someone just apprehended the target – _objective_, sir," the archer said as he skidded around the corner to the alleyway, in time to see the man being dragged around into another back lane farther down. He hurried about him, checking that his bow was in working order as he went.

"Well get to it," Nick growled. "You were given this job for a reason, so do it right. Now, where are you?"

"Uh," Clint dashed after the struggling man and his captor, and jumped over a garbage can the kidnapper had knocked over to slow him down, "somewhere in the back lanes by Bourbon Avenue and Hudson Street. I should be fine. Talk to you later, Fury."

"Bourbon Avenue?" Fury sounded stumped. "Wait a moment, Barton -" But Clint had already ended the message and lunged at his objective and the man who was pinning him down. A quick punch to the solar plexus had him reeling and Clint managed to snatch his target away safely. A quick glance confirmed the fact that, yes, the man was fine, and no, because he _was_ fine he wasn't allowed to do any major damage to the kidnapper.

With a sigh he cracked his knuckles and got ready to beat the man down a bit – nothing too serious – and was preparing to pounce when suddenly the back door of an establishment flew open and a man with black hair shocking green eyes glanced around the scene. He had a bin full of empty beer bottles, and the sounds of a bar were heard from the building inside. He was probably a bartender or something. All the man had time to do was blink then the kidnapper had scrambled towards him, pulling out a butterfly knife and pointing it at him.

"You take a step closer and I'll shank this guy!" The man snarled, exposing yellow teeth and ugly gums – probably from smoking. Clint wrinkled his nose at the thug. Ew.

"Huh." The bartender blinked. "I haven't been held hostage in a while. You're holding the knife wrong," he told the trembling thug.

"What? The fuck are you going on about, moron?" The thug said, obviously confused and baffled by the lack of fear in the bartender's eyes. "Can't you see that I have a knife? I could shank you! Any second now!"

The bartender shrugged and continued on with his casual conversation. "Mm, well, you might, but not holding the knife like _that._ Because if you do, _this_ can happen." Whirling, he snapped a leg up faster than the thug could follow and _almost_ faster than Clint could. It neatly collided with the man's hand, and his poor grip sent it spinning and leaving a shallow gash on his cheek as it flew by. The bartender followed up with a seamlessly-flowing kick to the chin that sent the thug head-over-heels and slamming painfully against a dumpster a foot away.

The black-haired man regarded the now unconscious man contemplatively. "Maybe I used a bit too much force," he murmured, putting down the bin that he still held. He brushed down his apron and black vest and turned to regard Clint. "Is he alright?" He asked.

"Huh?" Clint glanced down at the man he was watching and realized he had fainted at his feet. The excitement had been too much, obviously. "He'll be fine, just fainted. Who are you?" He addressed the man cautiously. His movements had been those of a fighter, and not just any, but an experienced one that had taken on serious situations and came out on top. Maybe a war veteran? He didn't look like a regular soldier, though…

The man laughed, ignoring the tension in Clint's question. "Oh, I'm just a bartender who works at this little place." He motioned to the one he'd come out of.

Clint arched an eyebrow. "Just a bartender?"

"A bartender with past experiences," the man admitted, rubbing his head sheepishly. "Do you have a comm or something to call your superiors, or do you need a phone?"

Clint stiffened at his words. How had he known he had superiors, or a comm? This man knew he was with the government, somehow. Seeing his suspicion, the bartender hurried to put his hands up in the air. "I know people," he was quick to reassure, "and I've seen your… _branch_ of government. Don't freak out, please. I've already knocked out one person and it's only," he paused to check a watch made of a strange bronze metal that piqued Clint's interest, "ten a.m."

He couldn't be sure of the man's truthfulness, but it didn't seem like he was lying, and to contact HQ wasn't a danger. Reaching up, he pressed the comm in his ear and murmured, "This is Agent Hawkeye, requesting body retrieval and a pick-up at this location." There was a muttered affirmative from the secretary, and Clint was quick to reach down and grab the unconscious man. Throwing him over his shoulder, he eyed the bartender, who was idly inspecting the scuffs on his combat boots. How odd for a bartender to wear combat boots…

"Agent Barton," he said reluctantly, extending his hand to the bartender. The other man looked slightly surprised, but strode forward and shook it. His hold was firm and friendly, but with an undercurrent of strength that made Clint shiver. He hadn't been able to tell until now, but looking at the bartender, he could feel raw _power_ rolling off him in waves. He felt lucky that they were on somewhat friendly terms, because if that power was directed at him in a hostile manner, he didn't know how well he'd hold up.

"Percy Jackson," he said cheerfully. "I work at the Golden Fleece. If you're ever up for a drink, feel free to drop by." He gestured to the building that he'd come from.

"Uh…" Clint didn't get invited for drinks by total strangers often, so he was a bit stumped on how to reply. Percy didn't seem to mind, just waving a hand and grinning endearingly, then disappearing into the door of the bar. "Say hello to Nick Fury for me!" was the last he said before he was gone.

Clint blinked. What just happened? He rubbed his head where he felt a slight headache come on, and realized he probably looked like Fury right now. Shaking his head, he walked towards where a discreet grey van rolled up a few feet away. Whatever. He'd search up this 'Percy Jackson' and if he was real, then he'd take him upon those drinks.

* * *

It appeared that Percy (Perseus, actually, but he couldn't blame the guy for using a nickname) Jackson was indeed real, and was indeed affiliated with .E.L.D. somehow. He had been unsure of why he had had to go through almost a thousand protective fire walls to get to his file - it was one of the most protected he'd seen - but when he got to the documents he gulped at the bartender's background info. No wonder the man had seemed terrifying – he _was_. Because, come on, _how_ many twelve years old escape a gun wielding kidnapper with what appeared to be a baseball bat (man those pictures were fuzzy; cellphone cameras sucked)? And going from North America to Greece in a day or two, both in crazy situations like massive sink holes and earthquakes while still a teenager? He really did know 'people.'

But, heck, his day had been crazy, and he _really_ wanted that drink now, so he went back to the same bar he'd found those two weeks ago, and stepped in. It was cozy, and comfortable, the kind of place he'd want to return to every Friday or so, and was popular if the crowded tables and laughing people meant something. Going up to the bar, he settled on a stool and asked the bartender on duty, who wasn't Percy, (obviously) "Is Percy in?"

The man snorted and tugged on the black bandana holding his red-haired shaved-at-the-sides mullet back. "Yeah, he's in. He owns the place – he's _always_ here. Just out back for a minute or two." The bartender – and Clint wasn't sure how Percy had hired this man, because he seemed more fit to be running around with a metal bat and motorcycle, not serving tequila – glanced over his jeans and black dragon t-shirt dubiously, and met his eyes. The others were an icy grey that seemed to shoot straight into Clint's soul, but whatever he saw must have satisfied him (somehow) because he motioned him through with a jerk of his thumb. "You're cool. Just, don't freak," he said with a grin.

Clint was confused, but the man had already turned away to prepare a drink so he slipped past the counter and through the storage room to the door to the back alley. Biting back the amusement of seeing the other man in the same place he'd met him, he pushed open the door just in time to get an eyeful of Percy contentedly kissing someone – someone _very_ familiar. Someone with chocolate skin and an eye patch and a trench coat and _oh shit Percy was kissing his boss._

Later Clint would vehemently deny his freaked out squeal of _'Jesus shit!'_ but it was pretty understandable because Nick Fury, the most asexual and unlikely to be in a relationship person he could think of was making out with the (agreeably handsome) black-haired bartender with the crazy taekwondo moves, and _dammit_ he was glaring at him now. In the present time, all Clint could say was that he was happy he had just put his hands up and went back inside to order that drink (and several others) because that glare could _kill_. Oh, and that those rumors were now not ridiculous, but just frightening. Very frightening, because Percy Jackson was very frightening, and in the next couple of years all the things he heard and saw only confirmed that opinion. He did not regret learning about Fury's relationship (because now he had something to hold over Natasha's head, _ha!_) and he did not regret keeping quiet about it (except for teasing Nick about it occasionally, but he never told anyone because it wasn't to him to tell) but he _did_ regret how he had found out about the two's relationship.

Well, only a little. Because damn would that make for a good story once the other's found out about it on their own.

And all those firewalls around Percy's files? Yeah, those made sense now.

* * *

**AN - Bwahaha, writing those last paragraphs were fun. I had fun making Clint squeal like a little girl. Just in case anyone took his reaction the wrong way, Clint is not homophobic, he's just surprised that Nick is making out with the small pub bartender with the martial arts experience in the back alley, that's all XD **

**Also, as a little Easter Egg I made it so that Percy's bar is kind of a safe haven for demigods (like the mullet bartender) and that might be a bit important later on, but whatever. **

**I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION! DO NOT LEAVE THE PAGE YET! Do you want people like Loki and Maria Hill included? If you want others feel free to request, and I'll do it if I can (if I can't I'm sorry DX) I'm thinking of adding 'The Hunters of Artemis Met Fury' or 'Clarisse Met Fury' or other PJO characters find out and come to threaten Fury to my list, but not sure if I want to. Support will help me decide. **

**I'm still not sure if I'm going to make some people only find out when the Avengers find out (so it would be their first time, but Clint and a few others would already know) but I'm kind of leaning towards Percy meeting everyone beforehand. Leave your opinion in a review please. _  
_**

**Thanks for reading, Matches :D**

**UP NEXT: Bruce meets Percy!**


	4. Chapter 4 - How Bruce Met Him

**AN - Hello everyone, and I'm back with that promised Bruce meets Percy fic! Also, I've had lots of feedback about who to include, and I've decided at the moment to do the Avengers (obviously), Agent Coulson, Loki, Poseidon meets Fury and Fury meets Nico. I'm considering doing Thalia/Annabeth meets Fury and Maria Hill meets Percy. I'm open to more suggestions!**

**This was rather heartwarming to write. Percy and Bruce might be a bit OOC, but I tried to keep it a bit right. **

**NOTE: This is after Fury met Percy but they haven't moved in or anything. It's been around five years into their relationship. They probably move in together a couple months after this fic. Let's say this one is set two months after the alien attack at New York. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

* * *

HOW BRUCE MET HIM

It was a Sunday morning and Bruce was at his usual volunteer clinic, helping the people who walked in seeking aid. It had been a relatively normal day, with scraped knees, sore throats, a dislocated shoulder and severe case of athletes foot, but until there was a knock on his door at 11:13 a.m. It opened to reveal a blonde haired teenager gripping the hand of a meek brunette the same age as her. The blonde marched her friend right into his examination room and told him bluntly, "My name is Laura and this is my friend Jesse."

Bruce put down the book on quantum physics Tony had given him and turned to face then, giving them an easy smile. "Hello, Laura, Jesse, I am Dr. Banner. What do I need to help you with?"

Laura glanced at her friend, who was staring demurely at her shoes, and took the lead. "Jesse is my best friend," she said seriously, looking him in the eye. "So I figured I should come to a doctor, and this place was closest. Will you promise not to tell anyone unless we let you?"

Bruce was taken aback, but nodded. "Of course."

Laura huffed in satisfaction. "Good. Jesse, you should probably tell him." She put a supportive hand on her friend's shoulder.

Jesse rubbed her hands together shyly - no not shyly, but fearfully, and immediately Bruce's instincts were on guard. "Um," she twisted her fingers, "my family, they don't really like me, and um..."

And Bruce's good mood flew out the window, replaced with a tightly controlled rage. He _really_ didn't like child abuse, and that was exactly what this was. He had seen it often enough to be able to tell.

"It's alright," he said softly, giving her a smile. "Let's get you checked out."

* * *

An hour and a half later Bruce stepped out of the clinic's back door and into the alleyway. Taking a deep breath, he leaned against the brick wall and stared up at the sky. He had just sent Jesse and Laura off, patching up any bruises and scratches Jesse had and giving his number to Laura in case they needed anything else. He had also told her the name of a good social worker he knew, a Mr. R. Jong who would help Jesse in any way he could if she wanted, and where to find him. He had done everything could, but it still didn't feel like enough...

Now that the two teenage girls were gone the simmering anger locked away was now rising to the surface with a vengeance, and it brought the Hulk with it.

Sensing the other guy's grumbling, Bruce attempted to calm himself. They both knew he wasn't in any danger, but the fury he felt often woke up the Hulk. Feeling a little bit of green start to creep across him and his muscles start to bulk up, he grit his teeth and tried to meditate a little, even if it was just enough to still the Hulk for a couple minutes. Normally back in the Tower he'd go find a quiet room and light a few scented candles and take reassurance in his friends' constant presence, but he'd have to do without now.

But, unfortunately, it seems like the Hulk didn't feel like being complacent today. As he struggled against the change, his legs buckled and he slid to the ground, holding his breath. He shivered for a few seconds, until a concerned voice spoke out from the alley entrance.

"Are you alright?"

Bruce jerked in surprise, and in his shock the Hulk advanced a little further, causing him to shudder and his eyes to flash green.

He heard a soft 'ah,', then nearly unnoticeable footsteps, and the man was suddenly crouching beside him, a mass of grocery bags in his arms. He looked Bruce in the eyes and smiled winningly. With a start Bruce realized that the man's eyes were just as green as the Hulk's. "You seem to be in a bit of tough spot," he said casually, taking in his rippling skin and changing irises. "I have a place you can, uh, _cool down_ at, if you need to."

Normally Bruce would answer, whether it be yay or nay, but at the moment his head was swimming with the Hulk's sudden and strange ramblings. His grumbling, because they weren't really words more like feelings and images, was soft and quiet, and sent across the vibe of trust. Which, in fact, was odd. Unbelievably odd, because Bruce could count the number of times the Hulk had opened up to a stranger on one hand and probably have most of his fingers left. The warm sentiments of his other-subconscious leaked into his mind and he blearily reached out, catching the hand the man had held out.

"That's it," the man murmured, slipping an arm around him to pull him to his feet. Completely disorientated, Bruce allowed himself to be led, hazily finding himself focusing on the man's profile. In the cloudy spring light his tanned skin had a bronze shiny glow, and it highlighted the light scars that littered his body. His hand, still gripping Bruce's from where it was thrown over the stranger's shoulder, was strong and calloused, but Bruce didn't feel threatened.

They stumbled along several back streets, Bruce now put in a daze from the slowly-receding rage and rare trust. They came to a stop in front a strong steel door - a flat's back entrance, Bruce duly noted - and the man paused to unlock the door. Then, keeping a strong grip, he tugged the doctor down a dark wood hallway and into a cozy living room, with overstuffed couches and a brick fireplace. Bruce was gently pushed onto the couch, where he had a lovely view of the antique Greek helmet that was placed on the mantle, with two candles on each side. Several picture frames were scattered on shelves around the room, most of them depicting his unknown host with close friends or portraits of him as a teenager with a brilliant warm grin. The bookshelf off to the left had novels of history and fiction, as well as a few titles in a what he assumed to be Greek, just by the shape of the symbols. How very interesting.

His dissection of the stranger's living quarters was interrupted when said stranger wandered back into the room. Pushing a cup of tea into Bruce's hand, he took a seat in the armchair across from him and put his feet up on the coffee table. A glass of whiskey - his enhanced nose told him so - was cradled in one hand, while the other lazily propped his head up. Smiling green eyes regarded him curiously, black strands falling in the way.

"So," the man said, his tone friendly, "what's your name, Mr. Man-I-Found-Crouching-In-The-Back-Alley?"

Bruce flushed a bit, but the teasing was easy and laid back. "Bruce," he said, nerves finally calming at the familiar taste of tea, "Bruce Banner."

The man laughed, flashing white teeth, and responded, "I'm Percy Jackson; I work as a bartender at a nearby pub. What were you doing out there in the alleys? You don't seem like the kind that would lurk there."

"Uh, I'm a doctor and was just visiting the clinic there. I got a little worked up over a case, and had to take a breather."

"A doctor!" The man's - Percy's - eyes seemed to sparkle childishly for a moment, then he noticed the empty cup in his hand. "Well, would you like more tea, Dr. Banner, while we continue our lovely conversation?"

Maybe it was because Bruce had never really felt the Hulk open up to someone before and that made him curious, or maybe it was because this man had helped him out, or maybe there was no reason at all, but the doctor found himself accepting the offer and settling in for an enlightening the next hour Bruce found out that Percy's favourite color was blue, he enjoyed drinking whiskey and beer, he loved his little pub that was a few streets over, he had an affection for his friend's dog that was partly his named Mrs. O'Leary (he had asked the breed but Percy had just waved his hand and said it was impossible to tell), he was an excellent fencer, had a rather impressive knowledge of Greek mythology and his old history teacher had given him the helmet over the fireplace. It was the first time Bruce had really interacted with anyone outside the Avenger's team since he'd joined, and it felt surprisingly natural to joke with this man.

And as he was placing his glass in the kitchen sink and preparing to leave with Percy chattering away behind him, inspecting the iron cast coat stand dubiously, Bruce braced himself and said, "Aren't you going to ask?"

"Hmmm?" Percy glanced at him, emerald eyes dancing with mirth. "Ask about what?"

Bruce was dumbfounded. "Me turning _green_ in the alleyway. Don't you want to know?" The doctor fought the urge to twist his fingers nervously. People _always _wanted to know. It was basic human nature: fear of the unknown and everything that had to do with it. Either they wanted to figure out every little thing and what made him tick, or they shoot him with anti-tank guns and ran away screaming when that didn't work. Of course Percy would ask, it was the normal thing to -

"Nah. I mean, people die their skins all sorts of colors, so being able to do it without them isn't that big of a deal. And people can buff up on man-made substances too - you can just do it naturally. Besides," here Percy's eyes sharpened, and seemed to laugh teasingly at the shocked expression on Bruce's face, "I've seen plenty things crazier."

Bruce could only stand in stunned silence for a full minute, before stuttering out, "I, uh, don't know what to say, and, um..."

Percy snorted and pressed a piece of paper into his hand. "My phone number and address, if you ever want to drop by for a drink again. Bring a few friends if you want. If you ever need a place to crash, feel free to call. Now ta ta, have a good day, Bruce. Glad I could meet you." He flashed one last brilliant smile his way and ushered him out the door.

The soft thump of the door closing snapped Bruce out of his trance, and he stared down at the paper in his hand, the number scrawled across it and letters etched in pencil. There was even a little happy face at the end, which just made him laugh because it seemed to perfectly fit the Percy he'd seen today: cheerful, friendly and kind, but intelligent and witty enough for Bruce to have a good conversation with.

Even though he hadn't known Percy long - two hours, it felt so much longer! - he knew that they'd be good friends. He was the kind of person he could count on forever, and Bruce didn't have many of those people.

* * *

When Bruce returned to the Avengers Tower, he was practically floating, a faint smile etched on his face. Tony, who had been serving himself an espresso in the kitchen, arched an eyebrow his way when he entered. "Good day?" He asked.

Bruce smoothed out the paper with the number and entered it into his Stark phone 5, fighting a stupid grin that normally only Tony smiled when he saw Percy's name pop up alongside the other Avengers. "Yeah, you could say that."

* * *

**AN - This gave the friendly fuzzies when I wrote it. So much fun to give Bruce a new friend. It feels kinda short. Bah, whatever. It felt like a good place to end it.**

**Well, I put a list of who is and who might be included in the first AN for anyone who didn't read that. Now you can't rage at me for not mentioning who's involved cause this is a reminder XD Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. I'm stuck on whether to do Bruce finds out next or to just mix up the series. Whatever. I'll try to do Bruce finds out next and keep it in pairs. Leave any suggestions in reviews or PM me! Support is always appreciated :D**

**Hope you liked it **

**Matches :D**


	5. Chapter 5 - How Bruce Found Out

**AN - Hey everyone! I'm back with 'Bruce Found Out'! I'd like to thank everyone for their support! Reading the reviews makes me all fuzzy inside. I'm really happy about all the recommendations about people's favorite characters that they want to see! I'll try to include everyone that I can think of. **

**Right now I'm planning on writing for: all of the Avengers (some already done), Coulson, Loki, Maria Hill, Nick meets Nico (XD), Nick meets Poseidon (can't wait for this) and maybe Nick meets Annabeth or Thalia. I had a quick question period with the wonderful _The Clever Weasel_ and they helped me decide that Percy is BISEXUAL! And that he broke it off with Annabeth a bit after they dropped into Tartarus and all that jazz. Also, the time line is a bit screwed up, so just take it as it comes. I don't really have a time lay out for this. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

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HOW BRUCE FOUND OUT

It wasn't often that Bruce was called onto the field for something other than smashing things as the Hulk. The opportunities to use his knowledge as a doctor, medical or scientific, were far in between and he relished when they did come.

So when the Avengers were called out in the middle of a battle, he was fully prepared to shut his eyes and let the Hulk out to jump from the carrier. At least, he was until a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder and he opened his eyes to meet Coulson's steady gaze.

"You'll be staying here. Your medical and scientific expertise will be needed in case the terrorists unleash a biological weapon or anyone on board the carrier gets injured." The agent said. Bruce raised his eyebrows, and his teammates paused in their preparations for the battle, but soon resumed their actions.

"You'll be okay?" Steve asked as he buckled on the sheath for his shield. Bruce nodded - he was practically safer in the carrier, and he wouldn't have to stomp around as the other guy. Seeing Bruce's silent answer, the super solider turned to Coulson. "So, what exactly have these terrorists got?"

"Robots. Eight feet tall, they are extremely strong and are programmed to shoot on sight if they see you. They're set to rampage until the terrorists are defeated or their demands are met. We also believe they may have a chemical weapon, like we mentioned earlier, but it's just a suspicion." Coulson gestured to Bruce. "That's where you come in."

"So, Brucie is the backup in case they whip out something unexpectedly nasty?" Tony asked, fiddling with a few spare parts. He squawked as Clint yanked the half-made contraption from his hands, tossing it into a random drawer while muttering about him probably making a bomb.

"Essentially, yes." Coulson shrugged, glancing out the half-open cargo bay of the carrier. "You'll be dropping in a second. Good luck, you lot. Bruce will meet you guys down there once the majority of the fight is over."

Bruce watched his friends and teammates gather by the cargo bay, ready to jump out onto the fast approaching roof tops. "Stay safe," he told them. They flashed him easy grins in return and Thor clapped him on the back. "Do not worry, friend Bruce! We shall regroup and celebrate with drink and food after this battle." Bruce sent them off with an uneasy smile, trying to take the god's words to heart, but found he couldn't. He had an uneasy stirring in his gut, and he had found over the years that it promised trouble. He could only do what he could and hope everything would turn out fine. It usually did. Today would be no different.

* * *

The battle ended surprisingly quickly, and Bruce was let out onto the ground an hour and ten minutes after he had wished his teammates good luck. He couldn't see any of his friends in the immediate vicinity, but he could tell they were safe and healthy, if the bickering over the comm in his ear meant anything. Moving down the street and away from the carrier, he made his way to where he had been told his team was. Several monuments and street lamps were broken and bent, and two unmoving robots lay strewn on the ground. One was half draped over a fountain that Bruce recognized - a now-cracked marble bowl, with a small pillar of sea creatures like fish and seals rising up from the center. The odd horse-fish on the top leaked water from the trident on its back in random jets. Bruce could remember Percy showing him it, taking odd pride in the odd fountain. He'd said the horse-fish was a hippocampus. And if he was right, then the fountain was only a block away from Percy's apartment...

_I hope he's alright_, he thought. It had been a few months since he'd met Percy, and he often went to drop by his apartment whenever he had to get away from the Avengers tower. The green eyed man always welcomed him with open arms, and if he wasn't at home in the apartment then he would wander over to Percy's bar (it was thankfully only a block away - literally a two minute walk) and get a non-alcoholic drink and chat with the other man. If something had happened to Percy, it would be a hard blow to Bruce's mentality.

It was as he was thinking these thoughts that he noticed the metallic limb sticking from the shadows of a nearby alley. It was the left arm of one of the robots, chopped smoothly from the rest of its body, which was nowhere to be seen. Crouching, Bruce brought his fingers along the slash. Whatever had cut it had been made of good metal, and had a hell of a lot of force behind it. But if the arm was here, the body had to be close too.

He continued into the shadows of the alley, and as he ventured further he became aware of the sound of soft breathing. It sounded harsh, like the person had been put through physical activity and gotten bruised along the way. A few more steps and suddenly Bruce was aware of a faint shine from around a dumpster a few feet away. It was the body of the missing robot, its right arm missing and the other almost hacked to bits. Its torso was sliced and the wires inside exposed, the power supply smashed. Next to it was a form propped up against the wall.

As he came closer he spotted messy black hair and tanned skin. An arm was tightly gripping the man's side; bruised ribs and back would explain his harsh breathing. Bruce's foot crunched on a discarded pop can and immediately the man's eyes flew open, a hand slipping into a pocket. Shocking green eyes met Bruce's and the doctor felt a chill crawl up his spine.

"Percy?!"

* * *

Five minutes later Bruce was helping his friend to his feet. Percy had three broken ribs, four bruised ones and a large gash across one of his arms. While his physical wounds didn't seem to bother him - Percy was oddly resilient, his muscles lean and corded - there was an odd substance on the blade that the robot had slashed him with. Percy said it was poison, and though Bruce didn't know how he had experience with it, it was worrying nonetheless.

Percy took three steps before his legs gave out. A snarled curse left his lips, and Bruce placed a soothing hand on his neck. His skin was uncomfortably warm and beaded with sweat, an unfortunate side effect of the poison. Bruce didn't know what variation it was, but he could determine that it wasn't lethal. It would give his friend a moderate fever, mild hallucinations, nausea and a massive headache, but no permanent damage. He just needed to get somewhere to rest, and his apartment was the best place since it was only a few minutes away.

"Hey," Bruce said, "take it easy. Your apartment isn't going anywhere." Percy grunted in agreement and struggled to his feet. They were approaching the end of the alleyway when the sound of strong footsteps reached Bruce's more-than-human ears. He jerked his head up to stare at the main street, and a few seconds later a strong figure stepped into the light, their shadow falling down the alley. A brown trench coat swirled around their ankles, and a bald head of chocolate coloured skin turned to look their way.

Bruce recognized the man's face immediately. The eye patch on his face made him stand out more than almost anyone he knew - it was a personal beacon, like Percy's striking grin and green eyes.

"Director Fury!"

* * *

When Fury heard about the robotic terrorist attack, he hadn't given it much thought. New York was probably one of the best prepared cities in the U.S.A for such attacks, with the Avengers living there. But when someone mentioned that the terrorist's robots were fast approaching Bourbon Street in an attempt to flee the Avengers, and that they believed their base was around there, he froze. _Bourbon Street. That's near Percy's apartment._ He immediately shot up from his desk, startling the agents who had gathered at his office to report. _Percy._ He shoved past the suit-clad men and strode out the door, making for the hanger.

He knew his boyfriend could take care of himself. He had seen the scars and the muscles during their night times reunions, and had taken time afterwards to consider them. There were slashing scars, stabbing scars, burn scars, claw marks, enormous bite marks, even a few that made him think uneasily of torture. The now faded lines traced Percy's torso and limbs like roads on a map. Most of them were old, probably gotten in his teenage years, but several went further, into his twenties. There weren't too many new ones, which was a silent relief to Nick, but the evidence was there. Percy had seen the dark and rough side of civilization, probably participated in it, and he came out alive and healthy. Measly robots had nothing on him.

But he couldn't help but worry. Especially since the terrorist's base was so close to his flat, and the investigator's had thought they might have a chemical weapon.

He commandeered a small helicopter and within ten minutes he was soaring over the outskirts of New York. Spotting the carrier that Coulson's unit had taken for the Avengers, he landed the chopper next to it and began to hurry in the direction of Percy's apartment. His irrational worry only grew as he examined the robots laying on the streets, and as he passed the cracked fountain that Percy loved so much, he heard a phantom of his boyfriend's voice in the back of his mind: _'Oh, look, over here! I love this fountain! Isn't it great - hey, what do you mean it's weird? It's not _weird_, it's bloody fantastic! What? No, the sculpture wasn't on psychedelic drugs when he made it, that's a hippocampus there! Jeez, do your Greek mythology research, Nicky._'

Shit. If something had happened to Percy he didn't know if he could move on.

He was moving along steadily when he heard the sound of talking, and the voice was a familiar one: Bruce Banner. Why was the doctor hanging around here? Coming up to the alley the voice had come from, he turned to look down it in to see something that made him bite back a sigh; Banner was helping Percy towards the street, his arm slung over his shoulder. He didn't know if the gasp was one of relief or worry. Percy was here, alive in front of him, but the way he was moving signified that he was hurt.

In seconds Nick was standing in front of the pair, taking Percy from the startled doctor and embracing him in a strong hold. He wasn't usually one for public displays of affection, but he knew that Banner was quiet and respected personal privacy. He wouldn't say anything. So, just for a few moments, Nick buried his face into the crook of Percy's neck and inhaled slowly.

Meanwhile, Bruce felt like his mind was shutting down like one of Tony's botched projects when he threw them in the electricity vault in a moment of sheer frustration. The only thought he could form was _what. What? What!_ Director Fury, who he had only seen as a professional and probably-heartless bastard, was wrapping up his good friend Percy in a hug! And a relieved, welcoming hug nonetheless. Oh, and now he was nuzzling Percy - and the bartender was nuzzling back! The hell? And _oh my god they were kissing! What the - _

Bruce span away from them, his face flaming. He would have never guessed that Percy was involved in a relationship with a man, never mind with Fury. Not that he had anything against it! No, he was just... surprised. Really surprised. It felt like his cheeks were on _fire_.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Bruce glance back. Percy was giving him an amused glance from his position in Nick's arms, now turned around so that he was facing the doctor. A cheeky smile was on his friend's face. "You okay, Bruce?" He asked, faintly teasing.

"Peachy," Bruce grumbled. "Just peachy." He gave the other man a small smile to let him know that he was just surprised, and that he didn't have anything against him. Percy relaxed a tiny margin at the smile, and his smirk grew into his signature grin.

"So you two obviously know each other," he said, nodding from Nick to Bruce. The director just snorted, pulling him closer for a moment, while Bruce rubbed his head sheepishly. "Eh," the other said, shrugging.

There was a moment of silence, which was slightly awkward, until suddenly Percy's legs folded and a grimace overtook his face again. "Shit," he swore.

"What happened?" asked Fury, shooting Bruce a glance as he hurried to them. "There was poison on the blade the robot slashed him with," the doctor said, gesturing to the disembodied metallic arm laying not too far away. "Nothing too serious, but it will give him hell for a day or two if we don't get him to someplace quiet where he can rest. I know his flat is nearby."

"And how," Nick said, raising his eyebrow, "do you know where Percy's flat is?" Bruce flushed at the director's tone as they helped Percy along, more carrying him than letting him walk. "We met a few months ago. He helped stop me from Hulking out and took me to his flat for a chat. We kind of stayed in touch ever since."

Fury shot a glance at his boyfriend, who was starting to get a little delirious. "Should I be worried about you bringing random men into your flat all the time?" Percy had the lucidity to laugh sheepishly for a second, then groaned as another shudder wracked his body.

Bruce watched the two interact curiously. They seemed like a good pair, however unlikely. The way they were acting showed that they had been together for a while, and he couldn't help but wonder how long and how they had met. Probably some crazy way, including bombs and guns and aliens and Hungarian Mafioso and sharks with laser beams. He wouldn't expect anything less of Percy and Director Fury.

As they reached Percy's flat and helped him to his bedroom, he watched Nick lay him out on the bed and a stray thought crossed his mind. If they were in a long lasting relationship, then they'd probably been over to each other's houses. And couples had sex, so that meant...

Bruce felt his face flame up again, and he quickly exited the flat, ignoring Percy's confused, "Bruce?" He shouted that he'd come back to check up on him and that he had to rest until he was feeling better over his shoulder, and paused to bury his face in his hands at the bottom of the stairs.

_God_, he'd never be able to look at Percy's couches and tables the same way again, knowing what had probably transpired there. And with Nick Fury!

The doctor let out a harsh breathe He just had to meet his good friend's boyfriend, who happened to be the head of America's top secret agency, in a terrorist and robot related way. Couldn't his life ever be a little normal?

_Well,_ he thought, glancing over his shoulder at the light blue door of Percy's flat, _if it was normal I'd never have any of this, would I? And he wouldn't have any of that, either._ He shrugged and kicked at a pop can as he walked down the road, back to his original destination of his awaiting teammates, who were now thoroughly confused. _Meh. It'd be too boring if this life was ordinary anyway._

* * *

**AN - I'm not too sure about how satisfied I am with chapter, but it seemed okay. Feels kinda short too. Not my best and most satisfactory piece of work, but I can live with this! I hope you enjoyed it! I had some fun writing it. Leave a review, drop a follow and favorite _si vous plais_. I appreciate any questions or recommendations you may have. **

**Next up is: ****How Tony Met Percy (oh boy!)**

**Matches :D**


	6. Chapter 6 - How Tony Met Him

**AN - This was surprisingly frustration to write. It's long, but for some reason it was hard to find a good theme for it. I hope it's satisfactory. I've been busy with being a camp counselor and working on some other stuff, so sorry that it's late. Hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer - Don't own anything.**

**Warnings: Slash, yaoi, gay relationships in this story, whatever you want to call it (just not in this chapter)**

* * *

HOW TONY MET HIM

Tony was having a bad morning. First he had meeting that was so early that the coffee shops weren't even open, and Pepper was off somewhere in Sweden to visit her mom so she couldn't make one for him. Happy (his driver) was home sick with a fever so he had to drive himself to the building where he'd be having the stupid phone conference, half way across the city. And now, still at least twenty minutes away from the building, his car broke down. Fucking _whipdee_-_do_.

Swearing like a sailor, Tony stepped out of the silver Lamborghini and eyed the smoke curling from under the hood dubiously. While he might be famous for being an inventor, he didn't have any idea was wrong. Tony Stark dealt with nuclear warhead and plasma cannons, not _cars_.

But maybe he should, because if they kept on being an inconvenience like this he might as well look up vehicle engineering and save himself a dozen trips to a faraway car workshop. Or maybe he should just get rid of cars? Yeah, hover crafts that ran on arc reactors, that he could do. It wouldn't take much…

Shaking off his wandering thoughts, Tony turned back to the problem at hand and wondered if he should pry open the hood. From all the movies he'd seen and personal experience with smoking methods of transportation, smoke meant fire and/or heat, heat meant possible explosion, and possible explosion was a big no-no in Tony's book. So the final plan was really to just call a cab and meander up to the conference like that? Ha, no way. Tony Stark did _not_ show up in cabs.

But it wasn't like he had any choice.

"Shit," he growled. He _hated_ mornings, and they hated him back to. Pacing back and forth on the quiet street angrily, he scowled and switched his glare from the smoking car, to his watch, to the general direction of the conference and back to the car. The debate whether to show up to the meeting at all or be a good boy and call a cab was warring passionately in his head when a man's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Oh, you've got some bad luck, don't you?"

Tony felt his eyebrow twitch at the teasing tone of the stranger. Turning sharply, he glared at the black-haired man who was standing a few feet away, a bag slung over his shoulder and faint smirk on his face. "Well excuse me for my car exploding without explanation," he grumbled. Tony was not a people person before he got coffee in his system. "And it's just before a meeting too!" He threw his hands up in the air angrily, muttering to himself.

The man watched him for a moment, smirk turning into a bemused smile. He opened his mouth, paused with a contemplative look on his face, and then smirked back at the billionaire.

Tony felt his eyebrow tick again. Oh boy, that smirk was just infuriating. It had to be a gift, that smirk. If he had that smirk, oh the things he could do to piss off Fury without even saying anything…

"I can give you a ride." The man interrupted his thoughts for the second time that day.

Tony shot him an incredulous look. "And you really expect me to believe? While I like to believe in there being nice people who help others simply because they can, it's too damn _early_ for anyone to be nice for no reason. And you could be a creeper, who just wants to kidnap me for my body and do terrible things to me in the basement of a non-descript cupcake shop!" He jabbed an accusing finger at him to reinforce his point.

The man just threw his head back and laughed, white teeth a stark contrast to his tanned skin. "Sure sure, it's all up to you. So where's your meeting?" He asked, continuing to walk along. Tony glanced back his smoking car, then to the casual man who just strolled past him without a worry in the world. Well, he didn't _seem_ like a kidnapper or pervert. And Pepper would smash his balls in if he missed the meeting…

Following the man hesitantly, he said, "The Majing Corporation Building. You know where it is, right?"

The other man flashed him another smile. He seemed to be inclined to always have bright shining smiles that practically blinded you in their cheerfulness. Tony wasn't sure if he liked him for it or not. "Of course. Ah, here we are." Stopping in front of a brick building, he went to a small cargo unit that was pressed into the alley leading to the back lane. He unlocked it quickly – the padlock seemed to be made of some strange bronze metal that Tony had never seen before; that was interesting – and slid open the hatch to reveal a gleaming black and green motorcycle.

Tony couldn't help but let out a whistle. "Impressive," he admitted. It was a good motorcycle, close to a Megelli Sports model, and was obviously well loved, with no scratches and barely any dirt. He idly ran a hand down the seat while the man reached into the unit and grabbed two helmets, handing the second to him. As he wheeled the motorcycle out onto the curb, Tony glanced back at the building. It was (surprise!) a bar, the small sign by the door reading '_The Golden Fleece_.' "This your bar?" He asked, strapping on the helmet.

The man laughed, another brilliant smile that Tony was coming to like crossing his face, and seated himself on the bike. "Yeah; I've had for it a couple years now. Wouldn't work anywhere else." He motioned to Tony. "Aren't you going to get on?"

Tony mumbled a few choice words under his breathe but threw his leg over the motorcycle, settling behind the other man. He only had a second to grab a hold of the other's sides before their rapid acceleration nearly tore him from the vehicle. They zoomed from the quaint street and into a more bustling part of town, despite the early time. They took the corners at barely legal speed, and Tony watched in morbid fascination as the needle on the speed gauge didn't once slip over or under the 45 m/h mark. Damn was this guy good; he didn't flinch at all, not even once! It did make him think if he'd ever gotten a speeding ticket before… And that reminded him, he didn't even know this guy's name.

"Hey!" He shouted over the wind, placing his mouth near the other's ear, "I didn't catch your name!"

"And you let me drive you here anyway?" There was a sarcastic snort but the man shrugged as they began to slow down. The Majing Corporation Building was ahead, and they wheeled to a gentle stop in front of the doors. "It's Percy," he told Tony.

"Percy," Tony rolled the name around on his tongue as he slid off the bike. Pulling the helmet from his head, he handed it back to his new friend (acquaintance?) and took a few steps back. "I'm Tony."

"Yeah, I already know who you are, Stark." Percy revved the engine a bit and prepared to take off. "Who knows, maybe we'll run into each other again. See ya!" And with that he was gone, shooting off around the corner with a frightening grace.

"Huh." Tony eyed the street. "Interesting. I know where he works, so maybe sometime I could drop by… Oh look! The coffee shop's open!" With that he rushed off to get his dearly needed life-giving drink, and the matter of the mysterious Percy was shuffled to the back of his mind, but it lingered, and he found himself wondering.

* * *

And it was three days later that Tony did drop by, though he was completely sleep-deprived and almost hallucinating when he did. After staying away for thirty-five hours and ingesting probably a dozen cups of caffeine, he had been in the process of trying to find a name for his newly finished robot when the title, 'Percy' popped up in his head. Immediately it made him think of the black-haired man, and being in the slightly delirious state he was, he decided it was an excellent idea to go and visit him. He climbed into his car, which was thankfully controlled by JARVIS because it wasn't possible for him to drive safely, and wheeled off to the small bar called '_The Golden Fleece_' he'd found those days ago.

Lucky for him it was probably one in the morning, so a good deal of the bar's customers were either passed out on the floor or already gone. Percy was standing at the counter, cleaning cups and yawning idly. Any sense of lethargy he might have felt had disappeared completely when Tony staggered into the building, mumbling incoherently. "Jesus!" Percy said, hurrying over to him. Slinging an arm around him, he quickly hauled Tony to the back room before he could attract any more attention.

"What's wrong with you, Stark?" He asked, dumping him on the couch pushed against the wall. The inventor just blew a raspberry blearily and stared up at the wooden ceiling, idly admiring the nice contrast the wood made to the rustic walls. Percy pried open his mouth and sniffed his breathe, and after crinkling his nose a bit he murmured, "You're not drunk, though you could do with a mouthwash. No concussion or head trauma," he held Tony's eyes wide open to the light to confirm his last statement, then grunted when he saw the normal pupil dilation. He checked his pulse for a moment, and then eyed his face. "You just seem to be extremely tired. How long have you stayed up?"

Tony waved a hand airily. "Mmm, a day or more? Hey, you're a lot like a field doc, checking me up like that. Do you know a field doc? I do; I met tons. They're real pricks, some of 'em…"

"Great, glad to know that." Percy got up and grabbed a glass of water, dropping a few pills into them. He swirled it for a moment then handed it back, the liquid slightly cloudy. "Here, drink this, you fool. It'll help you sleep. Going this long without rest is gonna destroy your mind."

With wavering hands the billionaire grabbed it and looked at it dubiously. "Will not. I've done it plenty of times and I'm still a genius." He squinted some. "Where'd the pills go?"

"They dissolved, numbskull. Now bottoms up."

Reluctantly doing as he was told, he coughed as the liquid trickled down his throat. In a mere couple of minutes he could feel the medicine kicking in, sending his mind off into the hazy world of sleep.

* * *

Tony woke with a groan. His body ached and his mouth felt like something had gone and died in it, but the couch beneath his back was comfy enough to make up for that. Mm, it even smelt like fresh ocean air and mint.

_Wait,_ he thought, _my couches don't smell like mint or ocean air_.

He sat up and gazed around the nicely furnished room that was most definitely not one of his. It had two couches, one of which he was sprawled upon, and a tall backed armchair, arranged neatly around a coffee table. Pushed up against one wall were a stove and fridge and a huge rack of wines and whiskies. Through an open door off to the side he spotted what seemed to be an even more varied collection of alcohols, and stairs to what he guessed was a cellar.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he closed his eyes and tried to think back to whatever he might have done to end up in this place. _Well, I definitely hadn't slept in a while, and I was done up on caffeine so I was probably messing around in the workshop. I made a new robot, and his name was gonna be Percy... Percy!_

He jerked abruptly to his feet then staggered as all the blood rushed out of his head. Grimacing he eyed the room once more, vaguely remembering it from last night. So he had wandered in to Percy's bar, and somehow hadn't gotten kicked out. Great.

"Oh, you're awake." Percy's somewhat familiar voice tugged his from his thoughts, and the inventor turned to look towards the main entrance. Percy stood there, dressed in casual clothes and his hair in the same state of black disarray as the last time he'd seen him. Behind him was the bar, empty of patrons and morning light streaming in through the low-slung windows.

He walked further into the room and dumped the bag he held on the armchair. "I didn't think you'd be up so soon; you were completely out of it yesterday evening. Well, technically this morning. It was around one am when you stumbled in."

And no that did _not_ make feel Tony the tiniest bit guilty. Nonetheless he shoved away the emotion and wandered over to riffle through the bag, finding only some food items. Leaving them he went to inspect the cupboard and fridge, ignoring any thought of privacy as he did so. He had the reputation of an asshole-billionaire philanthropist to keep up.

Within the cupboard he found several books, most of which were written in a language he vaguely recognized as Greek, and wasn't that odd? He hadn't thought Percy to be the bilingual or studious type, but then again he'd only known him for an hour or so in total. There were also indexes on alcohols and a notebook in the very back, which he assumed to be the bar's log. Inside it there were probably several different brews that regular customers favored or recipes for snacks that were popular. He was opening the one next to it, and could have sworn he saw the twinkle of something metal and sharp when a tanned hand landed on the door of the cupboard and slammed it closed.

"I think," Percy said dryly, "that you should wait until you know me a little better before you start snooping, Stark."

Tony swallowed at the unfathomable look in the other man's green eyes but covered up the movement with a carefree shrug and a dashing grin. "What can I say? It's just who I am."

"I'm sure that's true. Now, why exactly did you stagger into my bar last night?"

"Er, I might have been slightly deprived and had the equivalent of an IV drip of coffee running through my veins, and when your name popped up in my head I figured it was a brilliant idea to drive over here and see if you were in. I remembered your address from when you picked up your bike." He grinned shamelessly as he spoke, watching Percy momentarily pause in his shuffling around the small kitchenette.

The other man hummed thoughtfully and returned with a glass of water for Tony to drink, along with a bottle of headache pills. He handed them to the inventor, who took them gratefully and popped two into his mouth.

"So," Percy began as Tony took a sip of water, "how exactly did you get here without crashing your car?"

Tony choked on his water at the question. That _was not _the reaction he'd been expecting. Where was the anger, for dropping by on a whim at two in the morning? Where was the disappointment, at having him passed out on the couch for the night? Where was the greed and the gaze that would demand repayment for inconvenience he'd caused this (almost) total stranger?

But those weren't anywhere, and the only thing in Percy's eyes was curiosity, and maybe a bit of humor.

"Uh," Tony wiped a small trickle of water that had escaped lips, "my AI – artificial intelligence -" he explained at Percy's confused look, "JARVIS is installed in most pieces of Stark technology I personally own, and he took over the controls so I didn't run into some townhouse and decimate a third of this neighborhood's population."

Percy's eyes gleamed slightly. "Does that mean you could be absolutely smashed and still not be pulled over for drinking and driving? Because technically, you're not really driving, are you? Or could you take people on tours of New York, and scare the shit out of them by just turning away from the wheel and start talking to them?" His smile was slightly frightening.

Tony revelled in the newfound mischievous side of this strange bartender, and smirked. "I haven't thought of that, but yeah, I could." He stroked his small beard thoughtfully. "Actually, there is some crazy stuff I've done, with JARVIS's help of course."

"Really?" Percy plopped down on the empty chair and Tony sat down opposite of him, on the couch. The bartender placed two glasses of an interesting brand of rum and the bottle on the table and leaned forward curiously, chin propped on his fist. "Do tell."

Tony grinned and began spinning his tales. When he left five hours later, he had JARVIS drive him home to the tower so that he could a) not be arrested for driving slightly drunk and, more importantly, b) enter Percy's phone number into his phone and tuck away the note for a night of free drinks at his bar anytime.

He hadn't been so glad for sleep-deprivation and the stupid decisions it brought in years.

* * *

The next time Tony ran into Percy was after he had returned from Afghanistan. It was a dark night, and after lying awake for hours in bed, afraid to sleep because of the nightmares that would come, he had given up on rest and gone out for a drive. He had stopped in a quiet and slightly shady alley to lean against his car and stare up at the cloudy sky above. Idly he took out his phone and scrolled through it, not really knowing what he was looking for but feeling that there was something urging him to just open up his contacts and eye them thoughtfully. There, halfway down his rather long list of people he'd mostly given his number to half-heartedly, a single name leapt out at him.

_Percy Jackson._

He stared for a while. He had nearly forgotten about the bartender, all thoughts of the green-eyed man shoved the back of his mind in the recent turmoil of Afghanistan and everything after. His release from imprisonment had only been months ago, and despite the good face he offered the media, he was still fragile. Still broken.

But the idea of meeting Percy again was... nice. The man, even though he'd only known him for a short amount of time, had seemed friendly. He had been pleasantly sarcastic, enough to counter Tony's own sense of humour at times, and intelligent. But that wasn't all. Now that he had experienced the cruelty of the Ten Ring's for himself, and faced the harsh reality of battle, he could see the same familiarity in Percy's eyes. When he looked back on his memories, he could see the touches of fighting for survival in Percy's demeanour - the way he took in all his exits and entrances of a room, his constant awareness, his easy body positioning that always let him spring into a defensive or attacking posture no matter what he was doing and the calluses and scars on his hands.

Percy was a man experienced on the battlefield, however unlikely that may seem, and right not Tony needed that. Someone who could understand, someone who _really _the cold truth of the world and the fighting that came with it. Not an expensive psychiatrist and a plump purple love seat to lie on and spill all his troubles, because that psychiatrist would just nod and hum then write up a prescription for drugs that wouldn't do a damn and hand over the bill. He didn't want a horde of reporters either because for all their sympathetic cooing and worrying over him and offering to splash his sob-wrenching story all over the nation he could only see them as shallow and annoying gnats, flying about his head. Even Pepper, for all he loved and cherished her and held her dearly, didn't understand what was locked away inside of him, despite all her trying.

But Percy would, because he had probably been through something close to it. Maybe he was wrong, and maybe he was insane, but he just felt that his situation was probably familiar to Percy. Call it instinct or the voices in his head, but something urged him to drive to _The Golden Fleece_ and he didn't think twice about listening to it.

The bar was surprisingly quiet when he pulled up in front, but it was a Monday, so it might have explained why there were less people there when he pushed open the door. He glanced around, a small smile quirking his lips. The place hadn't really changed in the eight months or so since he'd last been there. Sure, there were a couple of new tables, a new rack behind the bar and the counter had been redone but everything else was the same. And there was Percy, standing in his usual place behind bar cleaning glasses, smiling softly as he gazed down at his hands. He glanced up when the door creaked open, and a look of surprise crossed his face when he saw him standing there.

He stared for a moment, then put down the now-clean glass with a strong clank. Somehow the sound echoed throughout the entire bar and the dozen or so men talking softly glanced to him. Percy met their eyes and said softly, "We'll be closing early, gentlemen. Please close the door on your way out."

Tony never would have the men, who were tough and burly and many sported tattoos and grim faces, would have actually obeyed, but to his surprise they stood and filed out with no objections. It must have been something in Percy's eyes, because when the bartender looked at Tony, the genius found himself drowning in the sea of green.

"Hey," Percy said quietly.

"Uh, hey." Tony felt the beginnings to awkwardness creeping up his spine and rubbed his neck nervously. He had just barged into this man's bar to ask for help when he'd only known him for a few hours, and it had been months since they'd talked. What was he thinking, that this might have ever worked out? He should just turn around and walk out; he had no right to bother Percy like this. It would be better for both of them if he just -

"Do you want to come to the back?"

Percy's gentle question made his gaze jerk up sharply from his boots to the other man's face. The bartender was currently holding open the door to the back room, gesturing vaguely to the couches that he could just see beyond him. Deciding to grant his selfish wishes, Tony took a step forward, then another. He slowly made his way past his sort-of-friend, who made no move to rush him, and gingerly settled himself on the same couch he'd woken up on last time he'd been there. Percy sat down in his armchair too, and they stared at the coffee table between them for a moment. Then the green-eyed man said, "Are you here to get drunk, or to talk?"

Tony hesitated, before falling back on his usual life motto of '_Oh fuck it all,'_ and answered, "A little bit of both, I think. You know, A will help B, and B will cause A, and the circle of life continues."

Percy snorted in agreement and got up to grab two bottles of the same rum he'd had last time. (How did the man even remember that he'd liked it? That had been months ago.) They both clinked their bottles together and cracked them open, taking a deep gulp. Then Tony wiped his lips, placed his elbows on his knees to stare at the floor, and began to speak:

"You probably know some of this. I mean, it's been splashed all over the news in just about every country on the globe, as far as I know. The Ten Rings, my imprisonment, the escape, this damned -" he tapped the glowing circle underneath his thin grey T-shirt, "- thing stuck in my chest. I know it's been a little while since I've gotten back, and all the doctors in New York reassure me that my wound are healed, but they're _not_. Sure, the gashes are gone, the bruises faded, bones healed, but those didn't hurt the most. It hurt," he took a staggered breathe and clutched at his head, "it hurt in _here_ the most."

Percy didn't say anything, just took another sip of alcohol and gestured for Tony to do the same. The billionaire did so eagerly, and after a moment continued.

"I can see it in their eyes; they don't really get it. What it's like to be trapped in a cave, to think that that place was going to be your coffin six feet under. Then to have Y-Yinsen," his voice broke, "have to cut you open to put a fucking car magnet-thing in your chest to keep frag from stabbing your heart. We didn't have anything - no sterilisation equipment, no meds, no sedation or all that stuff. All then he goes and dies, and leaves me alone and I blunder out of that hell in that metal coffin made of spare parts I'd assembled while delusion and delirious. My head, it was such a dark place, after. It didn't feel like my mind I was thinking through; everything felt frozen and cold and sharp. I hated it, and I still do."

Tony didn't look up from the floor when he heard the clink of glass, but was vaguely aware of Percy getting up to grab something from on top of one of the shelves. A blue glass orb, the size of his palm, was set down on the table in front of him. He glanced at Percy questioningly as the other sat back down.

"Look into it as you talk," Percy instructed, talking a sip of rum. "I've used it before. It'll make it easier to just let it out. I'm not gonna try and force you to think that everything is fine now, because it's obviously not, but you can make it so. First you have to work yourself out, find what's lurking and chase it out, let it lie there in front of you. What you're hiding and denying can't hurt you anymore if you stop those things. Pull it into plain view. Admit to it, know it happened and shove it aside. Rip it to bits if you have to. All those dark things swirling inside you just," he waved a hand at the orb, Tony and the table, "spill them all out."

And spill Tony did. Now he spoke, sometimes for a minute, sometimes for half an hour, sometimes he'd go ten minutes without saying anything only to just burst into rants all of a sudden. To a normal psychiatrist Tony would expect them to think him crazy, but Percy didn't say another word after his little speech. He just listened, absorbing everything Tony was expelling and after hours and another bottle the billionaire realized that whatever Percy was getting his to do was working. He felt a bit lighter, and a lot drunk, but better. Better since he'd left those terrible caves and dry dunes riddled with memories he didn't ever want to look back on.

When he woke up he found himself with a terrible hangover and Percy asleep in the armchair alongside him. He had warily shaken the other man awake, nearly received a punch for it, accepted Percy's half-hearted apology for it, and proceeded to try and clean up his mess. He went to pick up the strange orb still on the table, and nearly panicked when it suddenly split down the middle and the blue swirls disappeared.

Percy just waved it off with a mysterious smile and a vague, "It's done its job." and taken off with the glass shards. They spent the next hours talking about lighter, more mundane things, and when Tony left he greeted his hysterical Pepper with an easy smile that was more real than any of the others he had given her those past months. It would take around another year of more late night meetings with Percy then moving onto day time excursion that he would never call 'hanging out with friends' because Tony Stark did not "_hang out_" with friends, and finally introducing Percy to Pepper that made him admit it:

Percy was a friend, a damn good one at that, and at times, his own personal therapist. A damn good one at that, too.

* * *

**AN - So, yeah, this was surprisingly long and it was hard to find a theme that wasn't too boring. Which I hope it wasn't. I'm not all too proud of this chapter. Oh well. I hope you liked it at least a little.**

**QUICK QUESTION: Do you guys want a few "bonus" chapters after everyone and the Avengers together have met Percy? Like, everyone gets drunk together, or the Avengers find out how bad at archery Percy is, or Fury/the Avengers are dragged off to Camp Half-blood and hear the full graphic stories of everything (because Percy would totally down play them a little, cause he's modest like that.) It's up to you. Let me know in PMs or review.**

**IF YOU WERE SKIPPING THIS AUTHOR NOTE, PLEASE READ THE PARAGRAPH ABOVE FOR AN IMPORTANT QUESTION. I'LL POST IT IN OTHER CHAPTERS TOO. **

**Matches**

**Up next: Tony Finds Out (ooh, so many awkward conversations await XD)**


	7. Chapter 7 - How Tony Found Out

**AN - BLAAAAARGH. GAH. BLUH. GLUUUUUURG. COUGH. HACK. SNIFF. REPEAT.**

**Sorry, now that that's out of the way, I can finally get on with this. This chapter is several weeks late (I was hoping to post it two weeks ago or so) but due to camp counselloring, cello lessons, planning for our upcoming camping trip, and NOW me having a TERRIBLE head cold, this is what I have to offer. I find the length satisfying but the content... uh. I actually had a TON of trouble with this chapter. I rewrote the beginning theme and idea four different times before I dubiously decided on this. Because I am too tired to care too much and my screen is wavering in and out of focus, I'm going to just let you read the chapter (if you even read this) and ignore my ravings. **

**Thanks for the reviews, btw. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything. **

* * *

HOW TONY FOUND OUT

It was a late Sunday night and Tony Stark was lounging on his couch, watching Percy pull on his leather jacket to head down stairs. Despite the drinks they'd consumed over the past few hours, his friend's steps were strong and certain as he pulled on his shoes. "Do you really have to go?" Tony whined to the bartender. "Your room is ready as always."

"Yes Tony," Percy said, smirking at the billionaire. Tony was more than a little bit tipsy, though not completely wasted, and it showed in his change of personality. "Some of my regulars want to rent out the bar tomorrow, and I have to get up early to set it up."

"Poo." Tony pouted, and finished the last of his glass of beer. "How about the night after tomorrow? I heard there's a new bar opening in the East side that's supposed to be good, we can go see it. You know, check out your competition?" Tony waggled his eyebrows.

Percy paused at the doorway, a bashful look on his face. "Eh, sorry, I have something going on."

"What, is it a date?" Tony asked jokingly, poking fun at his friend's expression.

The way Percy rubbed the back of his neck and quickly exited the room gave him all the answers he'd ever need.

"Whaaaat?" Tony shot off the couch but only managed to stumble around the coffee table before he face planted. Well aware of the speeds Percy could reach when he rushed, the genius rolled over and shouted to the ceiling, "JARVIS! Where's Percy?"

"I believe he has already left the building, sir, and is being driven home by Mr. Godfrey at the moment." The AI replied.

"Goddamn!" Tony swore loudly as he cautiously picked himself up, scowling at the bottles of beer that had left him inebriated. Well, he couldn't bother Percy _now_; the bartender would just rip him a new one about pulling him back after he'd left for a stupid (in Percy's opinion, but not Tony's) reason.

Oh well. He'd just have to corner him the next time he saw Percy, and maybe force some truth serum down his throat if he had to.

Little did Tony know that the next chance he'd get would late enough that he'd have to resort to desperate measures.

* * *

"Sir," 'Happy' Hogan, Tony Stark's personal driver, said from his employer's side, "what exactly are we doing?"

"We, Happy, are spying." Tony said flamboyantly, gesturing with his binoculars to the busy street below.

"Well, I know that sir, but why are we here spying on _Mr. Jackson?_"

"Hush Happy, I don't pay you to ask these questions."

"No but Pepper does. So, we really are here because Mr. Jackson skipped out of going to bar together and that you think it's because of a date?"

Tony put down his binoculars and glared at his driver mutinously. He was dressed in his usual worn jeans and slightly oil-stained ACDC shirt, hair a disarray and hands clutching the binoculars.

"I don't think; I _know._"

Happy sighed. "Boss, I think Mr. Jackson really doesn't need you spying on him. His love life existed before you came along, so he can take care of himself."

"But who knows how many times he's been heartbroken, left to die alone by those heartless fools?" Tony pouted, waving the binoculars wildly.

Happy sighed and was about to launch himself into a lecture regarding over protectiveness and invading privacy when something on the street below caught his eye. "Oh, look, it's Mr. Jackson."

Tony's head snapped to look down in the direction his driver was gazing in. Indeed, there was Percy, though he seemed a little different than usual. Instead of his usual scuffed shorts or khakis and plain blue or green t-shirt, he was wearing slim black jeans and a crisp green polo, one that accentuated his tanned skin and eyes. His hair, while still messy, was a little more organized, and he was wearing leather shoes.

He had dressed up, obviously, and Tony knew why.

"A date! A date! See, Happy, told you that's what it was! Why else would Perce dress nice!" Wiggling gleefully in place on the roof, Tony chortled proudly. His driver just rolled his eyes and watched his employer's friend walk down the road, stopping at a small alleyway. "Sir, he's pulling a motorcycle out of a storage unit."

"Ah! Quick, Happy, to the Starkmobile!" Tony shot up and scrambled down the dubiously-creaking fire escape, which led to the side street where the aforementioned silver Mercedes was parked.

With a sigh Happy climbed in after Tony and started the car, pulling onto the main road just in time to start tailing Percy. The green-eyed man passed through the traffic, with Tony and Happy following with a bit more difficulty but still close by. He stopped outside a nice restaurant and parked his motorcycle in a conveniently close spot. It took Happy a few minutes and lots of ruthless cutting off but he wrangled a parking spot and they quickly jumped out to hurry after him. Luckily, Percy was still standing at by the doors, obviously waiting for his date, whoever it was.

Stashing themselves behind a nicely placed crepe stand - the purple-haired employee shot them a glance, but didn't comment - they watched in anticipation. Despite himself, even Happy was a little curious.

Less than a minute later, Percy's face lit up as a sleek black car rolled to a stop in front him. The door opened, but do to the angle they were at Tony and Happy couldn't see the mysterious stranger. Percy opened his mouth, obviously to greet him, and Tony leaned forward to try to hear him say his date's name. But, unfortunately but not surprisingly, something just had to interrupt the moment.

And even more unsurprisingly, it was explosions and gunfire.

Well, maybe it was a little surprising. But Tony was rather used to that.

Percy hit the deck with the ease of long practice (which had always bothered Tony, because this was _Percy_ and Percy didn't need to know how to dodge explosions and gunfire but he did anyway) but at the moment he couldn't help but be thankful for that odd skill. Not ten feet from the mysterious date's car, a Volkswagen Buggy went up in flames, and amiss the smoke Tony saw several figures dart about, wielding what he guessed were guns.

Percy scrambled to his feet, staying low, and conveniently fled in Tony and Happy's direction. He jumped, wide-eyed, when the billionaire reached out yanked him back by his shirt collar, pulling him into their little group.

"Tony?!" He spluttered, looking far more shocked than the genius had ever seen him. In his head Tony cheered at that little success (finally!) but he covered up his enthusiasm.

"Hey, Perce, uh, how's it going?" Tony gave his friend an unsure smile.

"What are you doing here?" Percy paused for a moment, and his green eyes narrowed in his famous glare that sent even the most muscular of drunken men scurrying from his bar. "Were you stalking me?"

"No, of course not!"

"Happy?"

"Yes, Mr. Jackson."

"Tony!" Percy whacked his friend over the head just as he exclaimed, "Happy!" Any further arguments were drowned out by the sound of more gunfire. Percy scowled and peeked over the crepe stand, muttering, "I really hate guns. And terrorists. They just had to interrupt my date."

"Ah, about that. Is your date okay? Like, not riddled with holes?" Tony asked a bit awkwardly. It would suck if his friend's girlfriend/boyfriend (he didn't know which) was dead before he could even interrogate them.

"He's fine. This kind of stuff has... happened before." Percy slid his hand into his pocket as he spoke, and Tony knew the bartender was fiddling with the pen he always had on him. It was tick he had, playing with the writing utensil whenever he was pissed off or nervous. Only Tony couldn't which one was plaguing Percy right now.

"So what should we do?" Happy asked, slightly disconcerted by his boss' and the other man's easy discussion while more bullets cracked concrete and windows.

"Well I don't know what _you're_ gonna do, but I'm going to find my date." Percy said, throwing them a short glare before bursting out from the cover of the crepe stand to jump through one of the shattered windows of the restaurant.

Tony made to lunge after him, but the spray of gunfire tailing Percy forced him to duck back behind the stand. "Shit!" Growling, he watched his best friend disappear into the swirling dust. Struggling to squint through the sight-obscuring cloud, he muttered to himself , "I really need to work on those vacuum grenades."

"Sir!" Happy's excited call made Tony look over his shoulder at his driver. The other man was pointing to an alley a little ways off. There was a door leading to the very same building Percy had darted into; it was probably the kitchen's back door. It was a short sprint's distance, but once they got into the alley they'd be sheltered from any stray gunfire that may come their way.

"Nicely done Happy!" Clapping his driver's shoulder, Tony readied himself. "Shall we go on three? Ready: _three_!"

Happy jerked in surprise as his boss burst out from behind the crepe stand but quickly followed, both managing to scramble into the alley just ahead of the bullets that spat at their heels.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Happy asked, hands braced on his knees as he panted. His heart was racing with adrenaline, feeling like it'd leap out of his chest any second. Tony grinned from his spot against the wall opposite his driver, hand clutching at his thundering chest and eyes bright.

"I wasn't really," he admitted and wiped his sweaty palms on his denim jeans. "But it got us here right?"

"Honestly I wonder how I still work for you, sir."

"You love me, Happy." Tony took a deep breathe and approached the door to the restaurant. Happy reluctantly followed his boss and together they wrenched open the heavy door. Inside was an empty kitchen, no doubt already evacuated as soon as the fighting had started. Dust swirled across the counters and the sounds of attack were muffled, thanks to all the walls between them and the conflict on the street.

Tony did wonder about that; was it odd that the gunfire and explosions had started as soon as Percy's date had stepped out of the car? And that the mysterious man who'd caught his friend's attention had effortlessly escaped the chaos into the safety of the restaurant? And that the assailants had focused fire on both Percy and his date without problem?

... Now that he thought about it, it didn't my seem like that much of a coincidence. It was just like Percy to end up with someone who called for just as much chaos as Percy found amusing. The bartender always claimed that a calm effortless life was a fruitless and boring one. Stood to reason that his chosen partner would live up to those standards too.

He just _really_ hoped the mysterious man wasn't a mafia boss or anything.

"Sir?" Happy exchanges glances with the billionaire playboy. Letting out a harsh breathe, Tony ripped a strip of cloth off his T-shirt and ties it over his mouth, Happy doing the same. Taking a step into the lonely kitchen, he muttered, "The things I do for you, Perce. This is even worse than the four thousand dollar Persian carpet and bottle of vodka incident."

And the door swung shut behind them.

* * *

Five minutes later Tony decided that he was never coming back to this restaurant again, if it still stood at the end of the day. "Who the _hell_ designed this damn place?" He growled, narrowly avoiding stumbling into an inconveniently placed bar stool.

A thump and a hissed curse indicated that Happy had failed to do the same with the table off to the right. "What I want to know is who blew the electricity, so I can punch _their_ lights out."

Stretching his hands out in front him in the dark, Tony snorted in agreement. After only two minutes in the restaurant, Happy and Tony had found themselves thrown into darkness to stagger through the maze of crooked tables, chairs and bar counters. There was just enough murky light, fed from the in a few other rooms, for them to see each other's outlines, but not so much the obstacles in their way.

A harsh slam to his shin later, Tony struggled to the doorway of the fourth and final dining room and peered around the corner. Down the 'employee hallway' was the worker lounge, the most reinforced room, and no doubt where Percy would go to wait out the attack.

Tony turned back to Happy and their eyes met. "Percy's probably down here."

"So what're we gonna do when we find him, sir?"

"Grab him and get the hell out. His date can take of himself for all I care." Tony rolled his eyes and made to turn around. "Now, where is - Jesus!"

The billionaire jumped almost a foot in the air when he can face to face with an imposing figure. It was too gloomy to make out their features, but Tony got the distinct feeling of strength and power as he looked at the man. He was wearing dark clothes and seemed to have chocolate coloured skin, but other than that he could see nothing.

"You know Percy?"

The dark voice tickled a familiar memory but Tony couldn't place it, nor would he try to in this mess. "Yeah," he said warily. Recognition dawned a moment later and he straightened from the fighting stance he'd unconsciously sank into. "You're Perce's date!"

"Took you long enough," came the acidic reply. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm Percy's best friend, of course I'll be here," he said, not really answering the question.

The man snorted, but didn't bother asking for more information. "You said Percy came in here?" His voice became a little gruffer when he spoke of Percy, but it wasn't a bad gruff. More like a... concerned gruff that he didn't want to admit.

Tony smiled. Aw man, Perce had this guy wrapped around his finger.

"Yes. We saw him run in ten minutes or so ago." Happy was the one to answer the inquiry, because Tony was obviously distracted by deep thoughts, if his satisfied smirk was anything to go by.

The man paused then spun on his heel and strode down the hallway to the staff lounge. Tony started at the abrupt movement but hurried after him, leather shoes clacking softly. "Do you know anything about the attackers? Perce mentioned that this 'has happened before' or something."

The brown skinned man didn't even stop to think about the question. "Why are you following me?"

"Because he's just as much my _best friend_ as he is your boyfriend." Tony glared at the man's back, hoping against all odds that maybe his gaze would cause his heart to stop. Or maybe a stray bullet would do the job. He could live with that too.

"Shut it, Stark." The man growled. Tony would have jerked in surprise at the fact that the man knew who he was (not of his identity, really, but more the fact that he could _tell_ in this damn dark) if Perce's boyfriend hadn't stuck his arm out and dragged him back behind a corner, Happy instinctively following. They were just in time, too, because four men in gray carrying hand pistols hurried past them, heading in the same direction as they were. Namely, the staff lounge. Where Percy was.

"Well shit," Tony swore softly. The man grunted what seemed to be an agreement and reached under his coat, withdrawing a hand gun from his belt. He took off down the hallway without hesitation, and Tony found himself nervously following.

Damn. That mafia don idea was really becoming a possibility. Now, was it a good thing or a bad thing with all the trouble Percy got himself into normally?

The sound of surprised yells jerked him from his thoughts, and Tony realized that they had already come to the half-open door of the staff lounge. The three men quickly burst into the room, Mystery Man brandishing his gun and Tony with his fists up. Tony was only a little surprised to see Percy wailing on the attackers already, with - was that a sword? Oh, no it was just a bat. A strange bronze-y kind of bat that he doubted had come from anywhere in the lounge, but the point was that Percy had a bat and he making use of it. Two men were already lying on the floor, blood dripping down their faces and eyes rolled back in their heads.

Happy was quick to elbow one of the men in the back as he tried to turn and face them, and with the ease of years of practiced coordination Tony smashed his face in with a nicely place kick. A quick chop to the back of neck from the driver and their target joined the others on the ground.

Mystery Man's fight was far less dramatic, involving little more than a gunshot and a cut-off yell, and then he was rushing over the body to where Percy stood, wiping small blood splatters from his hands. The green-eyed man was quickly swept up in a hug, and while Tony couldn't be too sure because he was a bit distracted by the awkwardness of seeing someone intimately hug his best friend, but he could have sworn that the bat disappeared just a moment later. Of course, such minor details weren't all that important in the face of the questions he had now, so he stowed them away for later.

Sidling up to the pair, Tony pointedly cleared his throat and said, "Hey Perce, still standing here, you know."

Emerald eyes opened and glared at the billionaire over Mystery Man's shoulder. "Then leave," he said flatly.

"Hey, is that any way to treat your best friend?" Tony pouted and clutched at his chest liked he was hurt by his friend's comment.

"A best friend that _stalked_ me on a date." Percy's glares sharpened.

At least Tony was a little abashed at that. He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly. "That's what best friends do?" He offered.

Percy closed his eyes with an explosive sigh and let his head drop down onto Muster Man's shoulder. He withdrew from the other's man embrace with a soft pat to the shoulder and faced Tony. He held Tony's stare for a moment, then looked to Happy and asked, "Do you have a phone? We should probably call someone to get rid of the bodies." He gestured to the ones strewn on the ground around them.

"Uh, yeah. Here, Mr. Jackson." The driver quickly handed the man his phone, seeing that he was in no mood to be trifled with.

The green-eyed man took it and went to a quiet corner to make the call, leaving Tony and Mystery Man to each other's tender mercies. Tony, of course, was the one to take advantage of the situation. "So," he tilted his head curiously, "what's your name, mystery-man-who-is-dating-my-best-friend-for-who-knows-how-long?"

"I would've thought you knew, Mr. Stark."

Ah damn, that voice, why was it so familiar? It seemed to spark a fire of annoyance, frustration and mild resentment in him. How curious.

"At least a first name?" Tony pried, making a vague 'come on, come on' gesture with his hand. "It wouldn't hurt right?"

"With you it would, Mr. Stark. Don't try to downplay your information network."

Happy watched the exchange uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot as he looked back and forth between the two men. In the gloom, he couldn't really see their faces but he could sense the bubbling challenge in both their words, no matter how innocent they seemed. Clearing his throat, he pointed a thumb at a door with the words "Electrical Room" on it. "Uh, I'm gonna go and try to get the lights back online," he said, edging to the door as he tried to escape everyone's attention. He quickly disappeared behind it and turned to focus on the switches and wires, tuning out the not-argument going on outside the room. It didn't take him long to find the right one, and with a heave he flipped the restarter switch. There was a great '_whoo_' as the generator and the grid started going again and the lights flickered on. To Happy it was a good thing, but outside the room for Tony...

Well, before that day Tony had thought it was illogical for cartoons to describe their characters' jaws to hit the ground. Now he understood the sentiment.

After a moment of silence, he pointed a finger at the dark-skinned man before him and managed to say, "I fucking know you!"

"I should hope so, Mr. Stark," Nick Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. and someone Tony was unfortunately acquaintances with, smirked at the open-mouthed billionaire in front of him. "If you didn't I'd be slightly worried about your mental state."

Tony huffed, having recovered a little of his normal persona. "Hey, I'll have you know my mental capacities are just fine!"

But of course, inside Tony was screaming his head off. _Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?_ _No way!_ _That mafia don idea is looking a lot better right now! _

"Tony. Nick. No fighting." Percy's voice cracked like a whip and both men cringed, stares for once leaving each other to gaze at the ceiling or their shoes innocently. Percy stalked past them, a reluctant smile on his face as he went to the hallway. Happy hurriedly bolted ahead of them, anxious to get out of the awkward atmosphere. "Someone will be here to stall the police and clean up the bodies. We have to leave right now."

The two men trailed behind him, still exchanging glares - one that of an overprotective best friend and the other one of a pissed off lover. Neither dared to say anything, because Percy was still in front of them and damn he could be scary, but their looks said it all for them.

As they left the building the same way they'd entered Toyn squinted against the harsh brightness and sighed. "Well damn," he said to Fury, "now I have to be nice to you."

Fury snorted but didn't say anything, merely slipping an arm around Percy's waist with a raised eyebrow. Tony got the message quick enough, but he narrowed his eyes at Percy. "Fine, fine, I'll leave you two to go find a date somewhere else, now that I know _who _exactly it is you're dating, but we're gonna have a talk when you get. Whenever. Wherever." With that Tony spun on his heel and made for the main street, Happy following uncertainly behind him. As they reached the exit of the alley, Tony paused and pointed two fingers to his eyes, then back at Fury, the inevitable '_I'm watching you_,' gesture and continued on his way.

Happy walked alongside his boss and asked uncertainly, "Are you really that against their relationship, sir?"

Tony almost tripped at the question. "What? No! No, Percy's life is still his own and he seems happy. So even if I'm not a huge fan of that bastard, I'll try and," he shuddered here, "get along with Fury. 'Cause that's what'll make him happy. And that's all that matters to me. If his 'happy place' is with the pirate director of a dangerous spy-and-super-hero organization, then hey, I'll back him. Least their relationship will never be boring," he said with a shrug.

Happy seemed momentarily awed by his boss' willingness to put aside his dislike of Fury just so that his best friend's relationship could work and sat down at the wheel of the Starkmobile, musing over the words. Oblivious to his driver's temporary hero worship, Tony settled into his seat and propped his chin on his fist. He could only think one thing.

_Maybe that mafia don thing wasn't that bad of an idea after all._

* * *

**AN - Ok, there you go. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for all the suggestions and commentary and all that jazz guys, you've made this a lot easier when there's people backing you up on writing this. I'll let you know in more detail what the future plans for this story is next time cause the screen's kinda blurry and I really don't feel like going on much longer so...**

**Oh. _BY THE WAY THERE WILL BE NO POSTS FOR AT LEAST TWO WEEKS. I WILL BE CAMPING._ Woo.**** Hear the sound of my enthusiasm. I'll try to write something while I"m away. **

******QUICK QUESTION: Do you guys want a few "bonus" chapters after everyone and the Avengers together have met Percy? Like, everyone gets drunk together, or the Avengers find out how bad at archery Percy is, or Fury/the Avengers are dragged off to Camp Half-blood and hear the full graphic stories of everything (because Percy would totally down play them a little, cause he's modest like that.) It's up to you. Let me know in PMs or review.**

**Dying of a head cold and am going to sleep for another nine hours, **

**Matches**

******Up next: _Bonus chapter: _Nick Meets Poseidon. (Yay. No seriously. Yay.)**

(read the second AN paragraph if you haven't please. I don't want any flames regarding my absence.)


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